THE BIRTH OF A LIVING LEGEND
by darklight dragon1612
Summary: When Siban Rilmosa returned to his homland of skyrim he never thought he would be the legendary dragonborn he had read stroys of as a kid now faced with the task of killing Alduin. Will he face his fate with his head held high or will he slink away from his fate and let the world fall to Alduin and his dragon's again. This is the story of a living legend.


He never thought that when he was returning to his homeland his first sight of it in over 11 winters would be from the back of a cart as a prisoner. Silban looked up and blinked infront of him was some sort of soldier was his guess. "Hello, you're finally awake. You were the one they caught trying to cross the border, aren't you?" Wide blue eyes examined him curiously.  
silban didn't respond right away but after a moment of remembering how he got there he did."yes i was." siban said Lokir the horse thief scowled at the soldier. "Skyrim was _fine_ until you Stormcloaks came along. The empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for _you_, I'd have gotten away with the horse. Halfway to _Hammerfell_ by now."

siban narrowed his eye's on the man and growled. then raised an eyebrow when he saw he was still talking to him. "You there—you and I aren't supposed to be here! It's these Stormcloaks that the Empire wants."lokir said in his whiny voice.

just as siban was about to tell him to shut up or he would kill him the soldier spoke. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Nord replied philosophically. "Be quiet back there!" said the shook his head and looked at the soldier.

"What's with him?" Lokir asked, eyeing the big Nord, who was richly dressed and gagged with an incongruously filthy rag. He had the glow of health about him, used to good food and soft beds siban thought. "You watch your tongue," the soldier said, disgusted that Lokir would even presume to address his—captain? "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak—the true high king of Skyrim!" the blonde nord said

"Ulfric? Jarl of Windhelm? But if they captured _you_, then—oh, gods, where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits," the soldier replied.

"sovngarde, would he be able to cross the whale bone bridge or be forced to wonder the planes forever." siban thought

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl here… I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny; when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.

he began praying frantically, to any of the Divines that might have been listening. siban shook his head with a frown. "not a good idea to invoke the name talos infront of the thalmor, then again the fucker's had ruined his life so far now they were going to take his life so why the hell not." he thought "Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?" a small child piped up from the street side.

"You need to go inside, little cub…"the man said siban stood up and held in a wince as the blood rushed into his legs after being in that unnatural position, it almost hurt to stand. "No! We're not rebels! You've got to tell them!" Lokir pleaded

A female captain, hardbitten and harsh, stood next to a soft-eyed legionnaire, she all glares, and he looking rather sad to see them there, that the war had come to this. "Step forward when your name is called," said the man. "Empire loves their damn lists," the soldier muttered under his breath.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

Ulfric moved forward with an easy grace, meeting the legionnaire's eyes without malice.

"Ralof of Riverwood." siban's eye's widened a kinsman from whiterun hold like himself. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

"I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Lokir squealed and, bound hands still waving before him, bolted down the road.

"Halt!"

"You're not gonna kill _me_!"

"ARCHERS!" the captain yelled, and with the soft hiss of feathers in the wind, the horse thief collapsed onto the Helgen road."Anyone else feel like running?" the officer demanded.

The legionnaire with the list looked at it then looked up again, uncertainty shading his voice. "You. Come forward. Who are you?"

"Siban Rilmosa." siban said looking at the legionnaire's eyes with a frown."You chose a bad time to come home, kinsman," the legionnaire murmured. Too soft for this job. "Captain, what should we do? he's not on the list."

"Forget it!" the captain said. "he goes to the block with the rest of them."

"By your orders, Captain," the legionnaire said, and looked at

He continued: "I'm sorry; at least you'll die here in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoner. I'll see that you're given the proper burial rites."

"Thank you kinsman,"siban said with a smile

The force of that blow was, deep in his bones, but the Imperial soldier hadn't touched him

No—it hadn't been a physical force, but a distant roar like the rumbling of an avalanche or the collapse of a gigantic tree—or an enraged beast.

"What was that?" the legionnaire asked.

"It's nothing," Tullius said curtly. "Carry on."

The priestess of Arkay began the last rites, but was interrupted—a Stormcloak rebel walked of his own volition to the chopping block and knelt down next to it. "Come on, I haven't got all morning. My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?"

He never received his answer: the executioner, grinning wildly, raised the axe and brought it down sharply on his neck. One heavy-handed hit, and the head rolled into a waiting basket with a gush of blood.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," the other Stormcloak murmured. Sigrid found herself agreeing: despite the situation it was a good death. He had looked it in the face, and bravely.

"You. The Nord in rags. You're next!"

That roar again: closer this time. Almost overhead."What _is_ that?" another of the Imperials asked. The fear trembled in his voice.

"I _said_, next prisoner," the captain snapped, as though she had not heard the same rumbling that echoed in all of their bones.

"Walk up to the block, prisoner, nice and easy," the legionnaire said.

Siban sighed and strode forward. he would not cower, but that did not change the fact that he died a coward's death, not in battle as he had always hoped he'd meet his end.

there was another roar. It _was_ overhead he realised.

"What in Oblivion is that?" the General growled.

And then the world filled with blood and fire and smoke, and everything went mad.

"A dragon!"

It was huge: all rippling black scales and bat-like wings and very large teeth, stained with blood, and crazed red eyes that burned through him like the sun. The mighty beast landed atop the guard's tower and roared, a screech that rended the flesh down to the very bone. And it opened its mouth and Siban could have sworn that within the screeching, a deep voice growled words in a language he couldn't understand but that felt achingly familiar. From his vantage point he could see men and women running through the flames, screaming, wailing.

"Hey, you! Get up! Come on! The gods won't give us a second chance!" Ralof of Riverwood yelled at him, pulling his arms and dragging him to his feet. Hands still bound together, Siban ran madly after him, though every fiber of his being screamed to find a way to cut the binds, to run back towards the dragon, to _fight _like a true nord would. once inside a stone tower with his pupils dilated hugely, staring at Ulfric Stormcloak and Ralof as they held a hurried conference—Ralof had already cut Ulfric's bindings and the Jarl yanked the gag from his mouth.

"Was that a dragon? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," the Jarl said grimly. As if to prove the reality of that observation, the tower shook with the force of the dragon's awful roar. "We need to move. _NOW._"

"Let's go before the dragon brings the whole bloody tower down on our heads," Ralof agreed, and Siban began to follow him up the steps, at a slower pace as he was slightly off about the whole a crack of breaking stone and the sudden, blistering heat of dragon flame, the wall in front of them exploded in a burst of blisteringly hot debris and falling rock and plaster. A startled yell escaped her lips, lost in the din. Some insane thing inside her propelled her screaming toward the hole, though, just in time to see the dragon flying away again.

"See that inn on the other side? Jump over there! I'll be right behind you!" said Ralof.

"i hope your right about this, or this is a bad dream hopfully."siban said then stepped back and ran then jumped to the building and not even pausing countinued on. She ran down the stairs, through a crack in the wall, only to be confronted by the legionnaire of the lists, protecting several survivors behind a burning ruin that had once been a home.

"Still alive, prisoner? Stick with me if you want to stay that way," the legionnaire yelled, gesturing for her to join them.

"The last time I followed you, it almost cost me my head!" siban said

"That wasn't on _my_ account, prisoner—follow me, and I'll keep you alive. Stick to the wall!"

siban followed him, and after a second, felt glad he did so. The force of moving air almost knocked er to his knees again as the dragon landed on the wall above them, the scream of monster and flame deafening, the sheer weight of it above her crushing. "You got it, boss," siban said, and shuddered as the monster snapped a man in half in its jaws as though he were a piece of bread. they made it into the keep and stopped.

when siban and his new freind hadvar made it out of helgan keep they smiled at each other. "siban had a knapsack, with, a coin purse, a long bow, arrows, a rusty iron sword and some stormcloack armor along with a bear pelt in his knapsack. hadvar had been mortifyed that he wanted to skin the bear, but after siban telling him he need the money to get food and armor and a good sword and a place to stay. I'm sure my Uncle Alvor would help you on your way," Hadvar protested, "After all, you've helped save my life—the dragon, and the spiders—"

"look i'm gratful and all but i still need the gold coin."siban had said Further down the road they came across three ancient stones, just off the path, arranged in a circle. Though they looked as though they'd been there forever, no moss covered them. he could smell the magic on them, ancient and warm, like the hot wind on an Elseweyri dune. The carvings indicated the blessings conferred: warrior, thief, mage. It couldn't hurt, could it, to ask for a little luck, after everything that had happened?

he pressed his hands against the Warrior Stone, and felt a warm filling in his hands. "Good choice," Hadvar said approvingly. as they walked siban and hadvar had to kill two wolfs they were just skin and bone siban noted. they made it to river wood with little a good 6 hours of day light left. Alvor and his wife,Sigrid, were just like hadvar said they welcomed him in there home offered him food and a bath.

which sigrid made him take a bath until the water was clear which took 5 more filles after that, siban sold the bear pelt and alvor give him steel ingits to make a sword and armor with. siban spent the rest of the night making the sword and armor with alvor helping him he put runes of protection on the armor in the form of his chosen gaurdean animal the werewolf which covered the front which he filled the lines with a red paint then put a werewolf head on the back then put black paint init.


End file.
